


Masquerade

by straightforwardly



Category: The Borgias (Showtime TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightforwardly/pseuds/straightforwardly
Summary: And so, when Lucrezia stood in her room on the night of the masquerade and raised her mask to her face, it was neither Echo nor Venus who looked back at her in the mirror, but rather a smiling Diana.Canon Divergence AU. Lucrezia attends the masquerade under a different mask.
Relationships: Cesare Borgia/Lucrezia Borgia
Comments: 5
Kudos: 84





	Masquerade

All was laughter and light. Outside the dance hall, the bull burned; Lucrezia caught glimpses of its flames each time she turned. The hall itself teemed with people dancing in the light and absorbing themselves in one another in the shadows. None, she thought, had recognized her: she’d disguised herself well. 

She had very nearly chosen to go to the masquerade as Echo: Echo, counterpart to her lost Narcissus. But then she’d found that a part of her thrilled at the idea of remaining truly anonymous, of losing herself and her name in the sea of a faceless crowd. Of being free to find her pleasure where she would. 

Most, she was sure, wouldn’t recognize her regardless of which face she wore. For all that they delighted to whisper about her, few truly cared to know the Pope’s daughter. Change the styling of her hair, adjust the timber of her voice, keep the mask close, and she would fool most all of them. Perhaps even the Pope himself. But Echo—Echo would give her away. Not to her father, but to—others. To those who knew her best. And so, she discarded the idea of Echo. 

What would they expect from Lucrezia Borgia? They who loved her best—Cesare, her mother, Giulia, _Cesare_? Something unique, not trite. Just as her father would be Janus, not Jupiter, Lucrezia would not settle for a mere Venus, as hundreds of unimaginative women surely would. That alone made it a compelling choice for her aims.

Yet something within her rebelled at the thought. Faceless though she may wish to be, she would not be just another woman, identical to all the rest. She would be anonymous, yes!—but she would not be common. 

And so she had made a different choice. 

She herself had spotted many whom she knew over the course of the evening, and it’d become like a game for her to see who she could speak to without them knowing with whom they spoke. The cardinals and other churchmen made for the greatest fun. Those who whispered about her, who scorned her and her child even as they admired her figure—they she sought out without letting it seem as she did so, and she took great satisfaction in first drawing their admiration before destroying their pride.

Thinking again of how one in particular had spluttered in her wake, a breathy laugh spilled from her lips. 

A man fell into step besides her. “Might I ask what amuses you?”

His voice was low: she could scarce hear him over the music and the crowd. But the sound touched something deep inside of her and sent her spirit soaring. Lucrezia slanted her eyes to observe her companion without his seeing. Tall and dark-haired, a golden mask tipped with the rays of the sun covered much of his face, though what little she could see of him appeared to be handsome. 

She smiled and said lightly, “Oh! only the folly of men!”

“Of men?” She saw him turn his masked face to her, studying her costume: the elegant, draping layers of white cloth, the sharp-eyed mask, the circlet of silver stags resting in her golden hair. Amusement bled into his voice. “I see. And are your words as sharp and deadly as your arrows, lovely Diana?”

“Only to those who displease me,” she said. 

“And have I displeased you?”

“Apollo must know the answer to that better than I. Or do I mistake you?”

His lips quirked. “You do not.”

“Then you must answer your own question for me,” she said, voice rich with amusement. As they walked, they’d drawn ever closer to one of the arched windows; now, half-ensconced in shadow, she stopped and with a graceful swirl turned to face him. She continued, “Tell me: have you displeased me? Have you lately ravished any of my poor maidens? led an unfortunate Orion to his death?”

The light of the flames outside glinted from the rays of his mask. 

“I must plead ignorance on the matter of your Orion. As for your maidens—” He caught up her free hand in his own and brought her fingers to his smiling lips. A pleasant, familiar heat swept through her. “How could any of your maidens catch my eye, when Diana stands here so fair?” 

“Oh?” said Lucrezia, laughing again. She stepped closer, pressing their clasped hands to his chest. “Does Apollo hunt his sister now?” 

She felt his answering laugh rumble in his chest. “I wonder. Is she not a huntress herself? Perhaps it is Diana who hunts Apollo.”

“Perhaps,” she echoed. She lifted her eyes to his. 

Few could see them where they currently stood, she knew, and still fewer would pay them any mind. What was one masked couple among hundreds? Husbands and wives, wives and lovers, strangers and strangers, drawing to one another in pairs to seek their pleasure. What made this pair different from any other?

Perhaps Lucrezia Borgia knew. Perhaps Lucrezia Borgia would have recognized those hands clasping hers, dearer to her than her own—perhaps Lucrezia Borgia would have known the shape of that mouth. But tonight no one by that by that name wandered these halls; there was only a nameless Lucrezia, only Diana, inhabiting a form that was perhaps not so chaste as it ought to have been. 

Reckless, reckless—but what was a masquerade, if not a night to be other than one’s self—if not a night to indulge in what should not be indulged?

And so she rose to her toes and caught her Apollo’s mouth with her own. 

“And here I always thought Diana a chaste goddess,” he breathed against her mouth, startled but not resisting as his hands settled around her waist. 

“Surely it is no unchastity to kiss the lips of her brother?” she murmured in return. He chuckled, breathy and low, and then his mouth opened for hers, and very soon after there was no more breath for talk.


End file.
